


While He Sleeps

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-07
Updated: 2005-11-07
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12797841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Who guards the guardian angel?





	While He Sleeps

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Watches out for us he does. From the moment he gets up all gung-ho to save the world 'til he lumbers his big brooding ass back to bed, he's watching over all of us. It's all part of that caveman 'Alpha Male' thinkin' he's got goin' on. We're all His, like. The Cheerleader, little Fred, Charlie Boy, Percy. Even yours truly. And wasn't THAT the shock of my Unlife?! That my sodding wanker of a souled-up Sire could or would ever admit to the "hearts and flowers" side of being a vampire. Hearts and flowers. That's what Legs called it when she first caught us...renewing old ties you might say. Well, that's what she called it after the screaming, and babbling, and begging, and blushing fit to melt the Polar Ice Caps came to an end. I was rather affronted but also impressed by the melt down presented by Himself that day. Who knew that a 258 year old vampire could speak that fast what with the not breathing, or turn that shade of red without being covered in blood?! But once he was done acting like a tot caught with his hand in the biscuit canister, he was given the hand flap and taken to task. I remember it verbatim. What can I say, being a vampire means no memory loss. She said, and I quote; "What! As long as you're not getting groiny with that female version of 'this is my natural color', it's really none of my business. You think I care that you're all 'hearts and flowers' with the peroxide abuser here? Like you don't deserve some happiness in the insanity that is our lives? What do you think I am, shallow? Please! Like I could care less whom you're interlocking parts with. And yes I know I'm channeling my inner Xander, how disturbing is that, but that's SO not the point here! I've been watching you two, and you've been happier lately then I've ever seen you. You've smiled, and dare I say grinned at times, in a non wanting-to-eviscerate-you-and-dance-on-your-corpse kinda way. I've even heard you laugh a time or two! So if you want to get down and dirty with the Billy Idol wanna be, far be it from me to tell you how to live your life. Even though his look is be-YOND last springs castoffs trying to make a come back this fall."

And wasn't THAT an emasculating experience..if one gave a toss about such things. But as I don't, I spose it wasn't. So we were given her blessing, such as it was, and went from there. And here we are. Hasn't been easy I can tell you. We've fought each other at every turn. But that's the way it's always been with us. He lays down the law; I ignore him. He reminds me; I make jokes at his expense. He postures, makes noise, and generally makes an ass of himself; I openly defy him and laugh. He kicks my ass and buggers me six ways from Sunday; I pretend to bow to his superiority complex. He feels guilty for the bruises; I milk it for all it's worth, at times even going so far as to cringe from him. He makes it up to me like a good Sire should; I accept it as my due, and round and round we go. Unlife as one of Angelus' Childer is certainly never boring. Especially if you're his Favorite. Which I am. 

But I digress. Yeh I used the word 'digress', and properly. What of it?! I was a useless bookish tit when I was human. Yeh I'm educated, went to Harvard I did. Tell anyone, and I'll rip your lungs out through your nostrils! 

Since I've been here he hasn't let me out of his sight. At fist I thought it was because he didn't trust me, until I realized that, to a certain extent, he feels the same for all of them. He watches over us, them while they're here, and me all the time. Even while he's asleep. It's only with me that he can be himself. Lay it all out. The Demons possessiveness, the urge to protect what's his, the want, the need, the blood lust, the lust for a rousing bout of fists and fangs, and the lust for a good hard shag after a spot of violence and/or feeding. Then there's the Soul warring within, between needing the family safe and the guilt that comes from being willing to do ANYTHING to keep them that way. Who but me could ever understand? Even in sleep he jumps at every ill sound or movement, and clutches me to him in between times. He's always been that way. When it came time to sleep, I had to be with him. Caused no end of fights between Himself and his sadistic bitch of a Sire. For all the good it did her. Angelus never was one to be told what to do. Not even by that exceptionally proficient Bangtail, Sire or no. Er..see former statement about lungs. He'd wrap himself around me and there I'd be until he was ready to rise the next evening. Apparently this rather endearing habit of my formerly absentee Sire has never faded. This is one of the few nights that I've managed to slip from his grasp somewhat. I was able to make it as far as sitting up, at any rate. Bully for me. But even as I carefully get comfortable, he's shifting against me, hands reaching. I still and those large hands slide across my skin until he's satisfied that I'm still there. Looking down on him, I watch him take my scent and relax. Sliding gentle fingers through his hair and down across one broad shoulder, I let my hand rest on his tatoo. Shaking my head fondly as the last of the slight frown marring his forehead disappears and a quiet purr stutters briefly to life. Strong pale arms tighten around my waist as he burrows his head in against my hip, then he sighs and subsides. So begins my vigil. He sleeps. Now it's my turn to watch. And I think to myself of the clichés that so aptly fit the here and now. A counselor helps those in need, but who counsels the counselor? A doctor helps heal the sick, but who heals the healer? Angelus watches, but who watches over the watcher? That would be me. That's where I come in. This is what I'm good at, among many other things, watching out for what's mine. I guess I get that from Him. They're mine to protect as need be, as is he. But He will always be my first priority. So I'll sit here, long into the hours when most other unrespectable Vampires have gone to sleep, and watch. Keep them safe, keep him safe, like he does us. Whether he wants me to or not. Because he loves us. Because we love him. Because I love the bastard, I'll watch over him. Liam. Angelus. Angel. Whatever he calls himself, he's my Sire. So while he sleeps, I'll watch over him. I love him. What else can I do.


End file.
